Chapter 109: The Application of Daoist Techniques in Daily Life

Deep in the mountains, a Daoist temple buried under a sky of snow.

Inside the hut, a firepit glowed; the Daoist warmed himself, eating persimmon cakes, while the fox beside him clutched a piece of persimmon cake, its fur dyed red from the sticky juice.

Lin Jue occasionally glanced at the fox.

The fox, seeing its white fur stained yellowish-red by the persimmon, froze visibly—perhaps thinking it had reverted to its old form—until it remembered its legs had once been pitch-black, and upon looking again at the persimmon cake in its paws, it finally understood.

It lifted its paw and began licking it.

“...”

Lin Jue sighed helplessly and said to it, “You’re a fox, not a cat. Those out there are cats...”

The fox looked up, fixing him with a stare.

The fourth senior brother was right—

For Lin Jue, Fuyao was an excellent subject for practicing communication with birds and beasts.

Not only because Fuyao had been raised by Lin Jue since childhood, their bond so deep he need not reach the “Summoning Beasts and Taming Birds” state of harmony with all living things to communicate with it, but also because Fuyao was far smarter and more complex in thought than the ordinary creatures of the mountain, allowing richer information to pass between them.

Yet it still could not speak.

Even if it had begun to develop the intellect for human speech, it had not yet refined its hyoid bone.

Lin Jue could only grasp the general meaning.

But as the fourth senior brother said—

Some of it relies on technique, some on guesswork.

Guesswork could also be called intuition.

The ratio depends entirely on one’s innate talent.

Then again, isn’t human communication also partly listening, partly guessing?

The fox stared at him for a long time, clearly stunned.

“Ying?”

“You’re a fox, not a cat.”

“Wu?”

“We’re not foxes. We’re Daoists.”

“Ying?”

“You’re not a Daoist. You’re a fox.”

“Ying?”

“This is what a fox is.”

The Daoist inside seemed to be muttering to himself; had anyone from below seen him, they’d have thought him strange.

Yet the Daoist remained patient.

The fox, however, grew confused, sitting with the persimmon cake in its paws, staring blankly for a long while—as if thinking, yet finding no answer—then shook its head, discarded the thoughts, and returned to eating.

The man and the fox each glanced outside now and then.

Outside, the north wind howled through snow, and amid the wind came the sound of swords cleaving air, swift footwork, and a woman’s labored breaths.

The junior sister was practicing swordplay in the courtyard.

Compared to the graceful, flowing sword dance she learned from the third senior brother earlier this year, her current movements were stronger, with altered rhythm; though the basic stances remained the same, they were undeniably sharper.

Both now studied the Green Pill Sword.

Yet their strengths and flexibility differed, and after months of practice, each had gradually developed their own style.

Lin Jue’s style was broader and more expansive.

The junior sister, influenced by the sword dance taught by the third senior brother—or perhaps deliberately blending it—moved with greater lightness and fluidity, compensating for her own physical limitations.

Now, outside in the courtyard, the woman darted through the swirling snow, her sword tip piercing through goose-feather flakes, slicing two zhang in an instant—anyone before her would surely be pierced through.

Yet she instantly halted her momentum, twisted her waist and torso backward, sweeping her sword, then instantly thrust another strike behind her—so powerful the blade rang with a clear chime.

Now, anyone behind her would surely be pierced through.

Lin Jue scratched his head, wondering why his junior sister trained so hard—even in heavy snow.

And she never missed a day.

Like building roads—rain, wind, thunder, snow, hail—she never stopped.

Lin Jue even suspected she’d sneak in sword practice mid-roadwork.

It was starting to pressure him.

He shook his head and went back to eating cake and watching the sword.

Compared to this, Lin Jue still preferred the sword dance from earlier this year—petals of peach and pine swirling around, the dancer like a fairy gliding, the sword dancing on the wind, far more beautiful to watch.

Amid the sound of sword dance, spring arrived in the mortal world.

The snow melted, and all life surged forth.

The spring breeze carried peach and azalea blossoms from the back mountain into the temple, mingling with the wind stirred by the sword, drifting through the courtyard.

“The back mountain has bloomed.”

Lin Jue stepped into the courtyard, looking up toward the rear.

The junior sister had shed her winter cotton robes for lighter Daoist robes; stepping forward with a thrust, she moved like an immortal clearing a path—even from a distance, the blade’s chill could be felt.

Hearing her senior brother speak, she paused, finished with a flourish, sheathed her sword, cheeks flushed, and said seriously to Lin Jue:

“Yes, they’re all in bloom. We can pick peach blossoms again to brew wine for the third senior brother. After peach blossoms fade, it’ll be pine flowers.”

“Why are you so diligent?”

“I have nothing else to do,” the junior sister said. “When can we do something tasty again, like last year, and sit on the mountain to admire the flowers?”

You don’t look like someone with nothing to do.

Lin Jue thought this, yet his gaze fell on the new pine needles sprouting on the ancient pine in the courtyard.

“Something tasty...”

“Yes, just like last year!”

“Let me think what to make.”

“!”

“By the way, sister, do you know what pine needles are good for?”

“Good for what? Poking people?” she said, then thought again. “I think Second or Fifth Senior Brother mentioned—if you can’t see at night, boil pine needles and drink the water to cure night blindness.”

“Close.”

“What?”

“If you can find a jar that seals tightly, wash the pine needles, put them inside, add mountain spring water—ah, yes, the sweet spring water from the mountain would be better. Then seal the jar with mud, wait a few days, and the water inside will turn into something fizzy, full of air and bubbles.”

“Fizzy water?”

“It’s delicious,” Lin Jue said, smiling. “Add a bit of sugar and honey—it’s even better, especially perfect for summer.”

The junior sister had been puzzled, unable to imagine what fizzy water tasted like, but in matters of food and drink, she trusted her senior brother unconditionally; seeing his eyes light up, hers brightened too.

“Leave it to me!”

She was already excited.

“Third or Fifth Senior Brother must have jars like that—I’ll get one!” she said. “And I know where the honey is—I’ll steal some!”

“Don’t get stung!”

“It’s fine!”

Not that she couldn’t get stung—but that it didn’t matter.

Hearing this, Lin Jue couldn’t let her go alone; seeing her already step out the door mid-sentence, he hurried after her.

Is this girl really so decisive?

The two darted through the forest, the fox leaping across the mountainside.

Soon, they reached a cliff face on Tianmen Peak; the junior sister pointed to a large honeycomb hanging above on the rock and said, “That’s where the honey is.”

“How do you know?”

“I passed by while building roads,” she explained, then asked anxiously, “Senior brother, you’ve fully mastered the ‘Summoning Beasts and Taming Birds’ technique, right?”

“Long ago.”

“Then I’m relieved,” she nodded. “I’ll climb up and steal it. If they notice, they won’t sting you.”

“That won’t work.”

“Why not?”

This technique only works when the Daoist holds no ill will toward mortal creatures. Now, stealing honey—how could you expect a peaceful technique to make them spare you?

Lin Jue, however, didn't bother explaining and waved his hand.

“Forget it. Go get it. We’ll catch it below. Be careful—don’t fall.”

“Don’t worry!”

The junior sister rolled up her sleeves and walked toward the cliff.

The cliff was nearly vertical, hard to climb.

But the junior sister was now an expert climber.

She found cracks and protrusions, quickly scaled a stretch, then, with no handholds left, carved her own footholds into the rock—soon she reached the honeycomb.

She looked down at the man and fox, exchanged a glance, gave a hand signal, then pulled a kitchen knife from her robe.

One slash!

Below, Lin Jue caught the wrapped bundle made of banana leaf with precision.

With such a commotion, how could it possibly go unnoticed?

Lin Jue immediately heard the noise above.

“Buzzzzz…”

?C〇

The sound was growing louder and louder.

Lin Jue looked up—

Bees swarmed out en masse, forming a dark cloud near the hive, while his little junior sister remained suspended against the rock wall, her body rapidly petrifying until she became a stone carving clinging to the cliff.

“Buzzzz…”

The bees circled her once, even perching on her body, unable to find anywhere to sting, then suddenly flew downward.

“?”

Lin Jue couldn’t help but glance at the fox.

The fox turned its head to look at him.

“What are you waiting for? Run!”

“Wu?”

“Just run!”

Lin Jue urged Fuyao to leave, but he himself did not run—instead, he set down the honey and slipped into the side of a large tree.

Mount Yishan was full of ancient, towering trees.

The Daoist’s figure vanished instantly.

This was also an application of magical technique.

The good news was that Lin Jue had now achieved some mastery in the Wood Concealment Art—he could breathe inside trees, and the technique consumed almost no Qi; theoretically, he could remain inside a tree indefinitely.

But his hearing and vision after hiding inside a tree were still blurred—he could only see vague shadows and hear indistinct sounds; large objects and movements were visible and audible, but small ones were not. He still needed much more practice in this regard.

So he had no idea what was happening outside.

He could only hear extremely faint sounds—buzzing, as if coming from far away, or perhaps just the wind or the rustling of the tree’s leaves.

After a long time, he finally heard a voice.

“Brother Shi…”

Muffled and unclear, as if speaking from deep inside a distant jar.

Lin Jue stepped out of the tree.

The world before his eyes and ears instantly sharpened—he saw the mountain forest in bloom, sunlight glinting on stone cliffs, a figure turning slowly with his back to him, searching; he heard the wind, the lingering faint buzz of bees, and of course, that muffled voice calling “Brother.”

This technique was truly useful.

Lin Jue turned to look at the ancient tree, thoroughly satisfied.

“Brother Shi…”

The voice grew louder, but why was it still so hard to understand?

“Here!”

Lin Jue picked up the honey and called out.

His little junior sister turned around—her face was swollen, yet she wore an unconcerned expression:

“Brother Shi, where’d you hide?”

“Yes. How did you get stung so badly?”

“I didn’t know! I thought—if I turned to stone, they wouldn’t sting me. So I turned to stone and waited a long time, but they didn’t sting at all…” The junior sister walked over and said.

“It’s fine. Brother Five is here.”

“That’s exactly what I thought!”

“Let’s go…”

“Is it enough? If not, I’ll go steal more…”

“Enough, enough!”

“It’ll taste amazing~”

His little junior sister took the honey and banana leaf from his hands.

Lin Jue mused, “By the way, on my way here, I think I saw some Banjiu leaves.”

“What’s Banjiu leaf paper?”

“Have you never eaten Banjiu tofu? Also called Immortal Tofu, Guanyin Tofu.”

“No…”

As she carried the honey, the junior sister turned her head to look at him.

“Banjiu leaves are the leaves of a wild herb. Wash them clean, crush them into pulp, strain the juice through gauze, add a bit of wood ash water, let it sit for a while, and it turns into something like tofu,” Lin Jue explained as he walked beside her. “It tastes more like a herbal jelly—serve it savory with soy sauce and vinegar, or sweet with honey and osmanthus.”

“What’s herbal jelly?”

“Similar to turtle jelly or burnt immortal grass.”

“What’s turtle jelly and burnt immortal grass?”

“...”

Lin Jue had forgotten—

Perhaps this era already had turtle jelly, burnt immortal grass, and Banjiu tofu as snacks, but his little junior sister came from the countryside and had lived in hardship; she likely hadn’t tasted them.

Even if such snacks existed, they’d be more common in places like the capital city.

“It’s fine. I’ll make it for you.”

“Okay!”

The junior sister nodded.

The two walked back with the honey; a white shadow flashed beside them—a demon fox leapt from nowhere, weightless, clearing nearly two zhang in a single bound, joining them on their return.

It occasionally turned its head, curiously glancing at the junior sister.

Wondering who this person was…